


Are You Gonna be My Girl?

by thanatopis



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Genderswap, Sinbad and Ja'far are girls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-01-17 00:05:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1366681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanatopis/pseuds/thanatopis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sinbad is used to people (men and woman alike) fawning over her any chance they can get. So it's somewhat of a rude awakening when Sinbad happens to notice the girl in ENGL 475. The girl that always sits in the back, intentionally or not trying to make herself as unnoticeable as possible, and it works most of the time. But that's not the point, Sinbad finds herself in the horrible situation of liking someone who might not be so easy to steer into her bed. Ja'far after all doesn't seem to care that Sinbad (who is attractive as hell might she add) is attracted to <em>her</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't plan on this being long. Probably two more chapters at most.

_Straight girl chaser_ is what Sinbad is notoriously known as throughout campus.

Sinbad doesn’t quite agree with the assessment because any girl that has _ever_ given an interest in either motor boating her boobs or sucking her cherry is not straight to _begin_ with.

If anything it should be the other way around, simply because Sinbad doesn’t _chase_. People chase after _her_ —men and women alike and it’s always been like that, ever since she was 14 and the swell of her chest had started to take a pleasing shape.

So imagine Sinbad dismayed when she ends up doing what she never thought she’s do.

She gives chase.

…

Ja’far has a strange name.

Don’t get her wrong, so does Sinbad—but Ja’far is _white_.

Ja’far is white, tiny, has freckles spotted across her nose, and pale (almost white) blond hair that’s almost to her chin. It’s the simple interest in her name that starts everything.

Sinbad is more than a little curious about the girl that sits all the way in the back during lectures, who wears baggy graphic-tees that Sinbad can’t quite reference, and whose presence almost always goes unnoticed as if Ja’far _wants_ it to be that way and Sinbad wonders why.

If Sinbad were honest, it’s not just pure boredom of the class that makes her eyes find Ja’far’s slight form in the crowded lecture hall, pondering more often than not, _just who are you_?

To say that Ja’far isn’t the type of girl Sinbad goes for is an understatement. Those girls are usually outgoing, curvy, cute, and most of all easy to persuade. Ja’far, if anything, is kind of intimidating and scary so it confuses Sinbad at first as to why she’s so interested.

One afternoon Sinbad stares too earnestly, absentmindedly chewing on a long lock of her own hair thinking about what Ja’far would look like spread out across her bed, what kind of sounds she’d make if Sinbad went down on her and devoured that cute little pussy.

She makes an indignant sound at that, only realizing after that Ja’far is looking at her and _she’s_ staring—staring straight at Sinbad with this confused little pout that shouldn’t be as sexy as it is.

Sinbad swears she doesn’t blush out of embarrassment when their eyes meet. Finding a weird sort of intensity behind those pale gray eyes that’s enticing, but Sinbad gets the feeling it shouldn’t be.

Ja’far frowns and for a ridiculous second Sinbad is worried that Ja’far somehow _knows_. She sighs in relief when those gray eyes leave hers, their depth almost too much, and Sinbad decides then that she must get to know Ja’far—for the sake of her own sanity if anything else.

Sadly, the idea is easier than it sounds.

…                                                         

“What do you guys know about that one girl in our English class?”

They are in the library under the false pretense of being good kids and studying. The librarian absolutely _hates_ them and Sinbad can’t really blame her.

Sharrkan and Yamuraiha always find something to loudly argue over, Masrur has a horrible habit of leaving food wrappers and crumbs everywhere, and Sinbad well—let’s just say there was an incident sophomore year involving a lovely lady and a turned over bookshelf that Sinbad, to this day, has never been forgiven for.

Sharrkan eyebrow rises as he strokes the non-existent hair over his chin thoughtfully.

“Girl?”

“There’s a bunch of girls in that class Sinbad, be more specific.” Yamuraiha says dubiously, like she knows where this questioning is going and she’d be absolutely right.

Masrur just shrugs.

“You know, the one with the really light hair like Sharrkan’s.” Sinbad’s hands gesture in the air wildly. “She wears those ridiculous glasses, her hair’s always in her face…” The more Sinbad describes Ja’far the more astounded she becomes with herself.

_Why do I care about this girl again?_

Simultaneously, Sinbad watches as identical confusion descends over her friends faces.

“The one that looks like a twelve year old boy?” Sharrkan finally says, scratching the back of his head. Sharrkan doesn’t mean it snidely, but even so Sinbad still bristles. “Uh yeah, but why do you care?”

Sinbad shrugs. Her lips pout as she runs her fingers lightly through her ponytail.

“Just curious.”

All three of them look at her for a long moment, gaging the weight of that statement and Sinbad clears her throat.

“What?” She says defensively.                                          

“Sinbad,” Yamuraiha begins her eyes wide. “Do you—are you interested in Ja’far?”

Sharrkan’s hands slam loudly on the table. “What! No way—that tomboy!”

Sinbad leans back slowly in her chair, eyebrow arching. Her arms cross and her eyes narrow at both Sharrkan and Yamuraiha. “And if I was? What’s the problem?”

“N-nothing,” Yamuraiha stammers, “It’s just surprising is all.”

“Yeah, I mean Ja’far is hardly your type—actually let me rephrase—she _isn’t_ your type at _all_.” Sharrkan reaches across the table and grabs a couple of Cheetos from the bag in Masrur’s lap. The other boy frowns as he watches Sharrkan stuff them non-to delicately into his mouth.

“I thought you liked those busty, long legged chicks Sinbad—don’t tell me you are starting to crave something a little more… _harder_.”

All three of them snort at that.

Sinbad shakes her head fondly. “No, still not craving _that_ , and if I was, Masrur here,” She grabs a handful of Masrur’s bicep squeezing for emphasis, “Is the only one I think that could satisfy me.” Sinbad wiggles her eyebrows and Masrur just stares at her blandly before removing her arm with an aspirated sigh.

Oh, how she loves him.

…

It’s by pure coincidence when Sinbad walks by the library that she sees a flash of unmistakable red, unruly hair as she passes by in the hallway.

Sinbad’s eyebrow quirks, her steps faltering curiously as she comes to a complete stop.

“Huh?”

It’s not unusual per-say to see Masrur in the library by himself. It happens sometimes when the 19 year olds usual spots for sleeping are taken up and he has nowhere else to go. Nevertheless, Sinbad finds it strange because Masrur’s head isn’t slouched, his body isn’t loose with sleep, and as Sinbad steps closer she realizes there is someone sitting _next_ to him.

Strikingly, Ja’far’s hair is in a low pony tail at the nape of her neck and Sinbad almost sputters at Masrur who is sitting _awfully_ close to her and looks… _okay_ with that fact despite Sinbad knowing that Masrur is selective when it comes to people he invites into his personal space.

It’s comical how fast Sinbad plasters herself to the glass, eyes wide and imploring as she watches both of their backs crouched over some book.

Sinbad waits, ignoring the strange looks tossed her way until Ja’far packs up her things and leaves with a small smile and a departing wave. Sinbad tries to play it cool as she rushes to the door, her long skirt catching under her sandals and making her wobble as she tries to catch the door for Ja’far.

The plan is to be courteous and charming: to open the door for the lady and for said lady to be touched and slightly flustered by the action. Then Sinbad would strike a conversation, maybe starting with a compliment about Ja’far’s hair, how shiny and soft it looks or how cute her freckles are sprinkled across her nose. Eventually the conversation would open for the perfect opportunity to ask Ja’far if she would care for dinner and a drink.

It seems easy enough, but when Ja’far’s pale gray eyes meet hers Sinbad’s brain just kind of…shuts off and her mouth gapes stupidly, opening for words that are right on the tip of her tongue but just won’t come out.

 _Holy shit you’re gorgeous_ …     

“Thanks,” Ja’far’s voice is soft and ever so simple in a way Sinbad wasn’t expecting, but it’s highly pleasing all the same. Ja’far only spares a glance at Sinbad as she passes through, bag heavy on her hip and Sinbad’s chest constricts in that unfamiliar way that only happens when Ja’far’s around.

“Well fuck,” Sinbad sighs under her breath, leaning mildly on the door as she watches Ja’far’s retreating back—not being able to stop that sly glance down towards her perk ass.

In that instant Sinbad knows she’s been had.

…

“You know Ja’far you little shit!” Sinbad accuses. It’s almost funny how quickly Masrur’s back straightens at the sound of her voice.

“You _know_ Ja’far and you didn’t tell me?” To an outsider Sinbad probably sounds like a jealous girlfriend, but she can’t help it if her voice naturally projects.

Masrur side-eyes Sinbad skeptically, stretching his arms above his head as he gives a loud yawn.

“I don’t really know her,” He says after a pause, shrugging his shoulders. “We have chemistry together and she’s very smart. I wanted someone smart to tutor me so I asked Miss Ja’far.” Masrur shrugs again like it’s no big deal when it very much is.

“Miss Ja’far?” Sinbad repeats dubiously.

“She’s older than me. It’s polite.”

Sinbad puts her hands on her hips, cocking her eyebrow. “You don’t call me Miss Sinbad.”

Masrur snorts at that. The corner of his mouth lifts slightly and it’s the closest thing to a smile Masrur will ever come to. “You’re different— _very_ different.”

Sinbad waves it off with a flippant twist of her wrist, her golden bangles loudly _clinking_ together.

“Okay, understandable.” She takes the seat in front of him, resting her feet on the table even though she’s wearing a long skirt and Masrur frowns at the display.

“So what’s she like?” Sinbad asks eagerly, fingers crossing behind her head as her amber eyes twinkle.

Masrur sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. “Sinbad she’s not—” He struggles for the right words to say. “She’s not interested.”

“You told her!” Sinbad straightens, immediately feeling betrayed. “Masrur, that’s like—”

“ _No_ ,” Masrur interrupts and Sinbad can tell he’s ready to throw her across the room in simple aggravation. “Ja’far is very—she doesn’t care for things like that. You don’t have a chance.”

“Psssh,” Sinbad sighs between her teeth, shaking her head. “There’s no such thing.”

…

As it turns out, Masrur is correct.

Ja’far is a mystery wrapped in a barb wire and it only spurs Sinbad to cut herself on the sinewy links more.

The past month has been spent trying to gain Ja’far’s attention—to which she has been both successful and not. She’s bold and flirty in ways that normal people usually melt over, but Ja’far—as Sinbad keeps learning and learning—is not _normal_ and the more Sinbad comes to understand this the more enticing the idea of Ja’far becomes.

Instead of fantasizing about getting Ja’far out of all those baggy clothes and making her beg for it, Sinbad starts to wonder how it would feel to unwrap Ja’far in a completely different way. Peeling back layer after layer that seem to make Ja’far both mystery and speculation.

 _Well this can’t be good_ , Sinbad thinks vaguely, but honestly she can’t find it in herself to give a shit.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for those that left nice comments and kudos! I really appreciate it, this story is really fun to write so I'm glad you're enjoying it. So next chapter really starts it all, this is just the set up. Honestly, I thought I would be done with this in three chapters but I don't think I'm going to be able to do that :)

“How long are you planning on keeping this up?” Sharrkan asks skeptically one afternoon, absentmindedly twirling a lock of hair around his index finger as he saunters up to Sinbad, taking the seat next to her.

She must look extra pathetic, because Sharrkan usually sits next to Alibaba, a kid straight out of high school whose voice becomes two octaves higher and flushes cutely whenever she as so much glances at him.

Sinbad sighs. It’s a tired, pathetic sound that expresses her utter lack of progress when it comes to a certain white haired, pale eyed, beauty that has her heart.

Sinbad frowns at that. Maybe not her heart, but all of her undivided attention and _then_ some.

Like clockwork, Sinbad’s eyes roam the lecture hall trying to spot a flash of short, white hair but finds that Ja’far isn’t in her regular seat—isn’t _anywhere_ in the classroom and it furthers Sinbad’s already sour mood.

“Shut up.” She huffs out, moping in the palm of her hand. Sharrkan frowns, patting her sympathetically on the back because Sinbad knows firsthand he’s been through the same torturous thing.

“Hey,” He begins cheerfully, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “I know something that would definitely cheer you up.”

Sinbad perks at that, but her frown refuses to turn upside down. Her eyelashes fan expectantly, the mascara making them feel heavy as she waits. Sharrkan smiles, eyes pleasantly gleaming.

“So there’s this girl,” Sharrkan pauses slightly for dramatic effect, waiting for Sinbad to give him the all-clear to continue and she nods her head reassuringly, already liking where this is going. “Her name’s Kyougoku, she’s super cute and definitely your type and I’m _pretty_ sure I’ve seen her staring longingly in your direction whenever you happen to walk past.”

Sinbad sighs. She knows the girl—Kyougoku Ren, sophomore, has a million cagillion brothers and sisters—some that even go to the same school as them, and a girl who definitely wouldn’t mind being Sinbad’s distraction for a night—not that Sinbad hasn’t already thought about it.

Kyougoku is a sweet girl, sweetly naïve and innocent and whenever Sinbad even thinks about going down that route something, might she dare say _maturity_ twists in her stomach telling her it wouldn’t be right.

Sinbad shakes her head, pony tail swinging.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. You’re more than welcome to charm the pants off her though.”

Sharrkan’s hand pauses at that, mouth parting dumbly. His eyes, the prettiest, brightest gem green she’s ever seen widen with surprise and blink rather blankly in her direction.

“ _Sinbad_.” She cringes slightly at the confusion and bewilderment she hears in his voice. Wonders why it makes her feel strange.

Sinbad shrugs, pout etching across her coral stained lips. “What? She’s just not my type.”

Sharrkan bites his bottom lip, eyes roaming over her as if it’s the first time he’s seeing her.

“She’s _exactly_ your type. That’s what confuses me.”

…

“You’re moping.” Yamuraiha says matter of fact as she strolls into their shared living room. Mango face mask covers the curves and corners of her face in goopy glops as her ridiculous mermaid slippers scoff against the carpeted floor.

Instantly the whole house smells of tangy, citrus scent making Sinbad’s nose scrunch up.

Sinbad resists the urge to sigh loudly and/or tell Yamuraiha to butt out and mind her own business, but instead continues playing Candy Crush on her phone, too distracted to do anything other than mumble a futile _nu-uh_.

…

Looking for Masrur when the man doesn’t partially want to be found is a challenge within itself. Sinbad has spent a good 20 minutes walking around campus, peaking in the nooks and crannies only to come up empty handed each time.

Sinbad sighs a frustrated breath, looking this way and that around the large courtyard two seconds away from throwing up her hands and just saying _fuck it_ , but then two figures— both coming her way down the brown and red cobblestones makes Sinbad double take.

She wants to laugh at how common place this is starting to become, almost like cruel irony as Sinbad spots Masrur and Ja’far _again_ , walking next to each other in that familiar way that makes Sinbad’s throat clench up.

Irrational anger at Masrur hits Sinbad like a ton of bricks, the emotion cascades over her so suddenly it startles her, making her hands ball up into fist and a severe frown transforms her face into something unpleasant. Sinbad immediately feels like a huge piece of shit for even thinking Masrur would do this on purpose just to hurt her, the boy holds no interest in Ja’far like that—he’s told her, but yet…

Maroon eyes flicker up to hers before Sinbad can even think the crippling doubt, solidifying something within her that makes her fist unclench and makes an easy smile break over her face.

“Hey, Masrur, you douche! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Sinbad calls out, waving her arms some few feet away. She adopts an easy stride, making her skirt swoosh in a way that draws attention to her legs.

Ja’far’s eyes—beautiful pale grey that seem like glass, widen slightly, surprised by the loud noise in the otherwise quiet courtyard.

Ja’far’s eyes curiously follow the voice, mouth prettily parting as she spots Sinbad and for a moment it looks like she’s about to leave. It’s the classic avoidance of meeting a person who is better friends with someone _you’re_ friends with, and for a foolish second, Sinbad almost contemplates just calling out her name to make her stay. Damn the potential consequences.

_No, no—please stay. I want to talk to you and get to know you and I want you to get to know me so we can—_

A downwards tilt of his head and few hushed words from Masrur’s mouth makes her stay instead and Sinbad’s grin almost splits her face at the opportunity he’s giving her.

She looks at him, amber eyes shining brightly in her skull and she can almost hear the grunt of their unspoken agreement.

_Lunch for a week—hell, I might even throw in dessert I’m so fucking happy right now._

_…Two weeks and you have a deal._

“Ja’far,” Masrur begins, turning his attention back on the smaller female who fidgets slightly with the fraying bracelet on her wrist. “This is my friend Sinbad. Sinbad this is Ja’far.”

Sinbad nods coolly and it takes everything in her not to say she already knows. Ja’far extends her hand, giving Sinbad a pleasant enough smile that makes her heart thud violently in the cavity of her chest.

“Yeah, I think everyone pretty much knows who you are—nice to meet you anyways.” Sinbad takes her hand, marveling at the softness, how her hand is pleasantly cool to the touch even during such a warm day. She doesn’t know if Ja’far already knowing who she is a good thing, but hell she’ll try and make it into a good one.

Sinbad tilts her head, smiling saucily in that way she’s seen people melt and fawn over.

“Well I do hope that’s a good thing,” She trails off, reluctantly letting go of Ja’far’s hand. Ja’far’s clears her throat lightly, tugging at the lobe of her ear, before sliding a stray piece of hair behind her ear and Sinbad watches, charmed, as it falls right back onto her face.

Ja’far shrugs, putting her hands in her back pockets as if trying to still there irregular movement. “I guess it would depend on the person you talk to.”

Sinbad’s eyebrow arches questionably. “You’ve talk to people about me?” She can’t help the amused tilt of her tone. It’s comical how wide Ja’far’s eyes become in that instant, as if she’s just made a grave error, and it fascinates Sinbad to watch her sputter and flush pink—cool, calm Ja’far…

“No, I mean—you’re…” Her face screws up, hands gesturing wildly as she tries to find the desirable word. “ _Notable_. Sometimes it just comes up—” Ja’far cringes at that. “You know what?—just forget I ever said anything.”

“Hey,” Sinbad says, lightheartedly poking Ja’far on her shoulder which only seems to further the flush working up her neck. _Interesting_.

“I’m just messing with you. Notable is actually one of the kinder words I’ve heard someone describe me as.”

Masrur snorts at that. “Well at least you know.”

Sinbad skeptically side-eyes Masrur, pelting him hard on the arm—not even trying to be delicate about it since only a fast moving monster truck could actually put a dent on Masrur.

“Shut up.”

Ja’far laughs, hand cutely coming up as if to smother the lighthearted noise and Sinbad melts at how content the sound makes her feel.

Sinbad scratches at the back of her neck. “Hey, you know…if you ever want to hang out with us you’re totally welcome to.”

Ja’far grins, looking down at her black TOM’S as they scuttle against the stone. A marching line of ants mostly go by unnoticed.

She nods. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Sinbad shrugs, trying to appear as cool as possible while playing with the rings on her fingers. “No problem, Masrur likes you—” _And so do I, so, so much_. “How bad can you actually be?”

Ja’far looks up then, and the foreign gleam in her eyes give Sinbad pause.

“Hmm, I think I’d surprise you.”

…

“I think she was flirting with you.” Masrur says no sooner after Ja’far has left. The girl had muttered something about almost being late for work and departed, something Sinbad couldn’t really hear over the rush of blood in her ears because that offhanded comment (completely innocent… _right?_ ) had her mind going to filthy, dirty places.

“No she wasn’t.” Sinbad scoffs, the simple thought of it ridiculous.

_She wasn’t, was she? I don’t think she was. That’s not how people usually flirt with me. Ja’far doesn’t seem like the type of person who would flirt anyways._

“Hmm.” Is all Masrur gives on the topic and Sinbad wants to demand what the hell _that’s_ supposed to mean, but lets it go, worrying at the skin of her lip.

“That girl Masrur…she’s going to _kill_ me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I'm so sorry about getting this chapter out there so late. School is kind of a pain with the semester ending in like, a _month_ so I've been really busy with work. Thank you for those that leave kind comments and kudos, I'm really happy you guys like it so far :)

Sinbad remembers her father telling her the story of how he managed to land such a catch like her mother before he died. Sinbad had been a typical child, found the story somewhat gross and boring and it always seemed to repeat whenever her mother would walk into a room. Her brown eyes soft and warm while her smile friendly and plush and Sinbad, from that look alone, understood.

Sinbad had always found it rather disappointing how her father didn’t manage sweep her mother off her feet like those pirates in the movies and T.V shows did. She had been a child and it had excited her to no end at how the pirates would always glide in in a showy bout of extravagance. To Sinbad there was always something so self-assured in how the pirates would pull their lady love into their arms as their lips met with a passion Sinbad only ever saw when her parents thought she was outside playing.

Her father would laugh, ruffling her hair fondly whenever she would express her naïve disappointment.

“Is that how you want to be swept off your feet Sinbad?” Her father had asked sweetly and Sinbad frowned slightly.

For some reason (Sinbad would only start to understand as she got older), she didn’t tell him that she _never_ envisioned herself as the woman, but as the pirate.

…

There is a park by Sinbad and Yamuraiha’s shared apartment that Sinbad strolls through whenever she’s feeling particularly wistful. It gives her a sense of perspective that she wouldn’t necessarily get from working out at the gym or drowning her thoughts in the form of tequila and lime with a pretty girl whispering sweet nothings inside the shell of her ear.

So on a Thursday afternoon she’s not surprised to find herself strolling through canopies of spruce and oak trees, faded brown leaves crunching under her feet thinking about a slender, heather eyed, freckled beauty that has the sweetest smile Sinbad’s ever seen.

Instantly, Sinbad feels _herself_ smiling whimsically at the image. How the corners of Ja’far’s lips lift—and not in the phony, fake way—but when something has genuinely surprised her and made her happy. Sinbad hopes one day, one of those smiles will be because of her.

It’s unspoken how far her infatuation goes and _continues_ togo.

If Sinbad finds anything strange in her behavior—like how she is all of a sudden less inclined to take up Sharrkan’s offers of hitting up local clubs to see what kind catches they can land—Sinbad sure as hell doesn’t dwell on it.

She’s so wrapped in her own thoughts that she almost misses it—the tiny, unimposing voice that seems to echo all around her and it makes Sinbad startle, the hair’s on her neck standing straight up.

Her ponytail whips around her face as her head pivots left and right, finding no one on the trail besides her or even remotely close to her. Sinbad’s amber eyes narrow, initially thinking she’s a victim of some middle schooler’s idea of a clever prank.

Her mouth parts, ready to give a biting remark before the voice sounds again and this time the origin sounds…higher?  

“Um…excuse me Miss?”

Sinbad looks up and what she finds leaves her a little dumbfounded. A boy—no more than ten or eleven crouched on one of the thick branches of an oak tree and by the looks of it—very, very stuck.

Sinbad blinks a couple times, wondering maybe if her eyes are playing tricks on her but no, the boy with his wide, blue eyes and kind smile are very much real. The boy sighs in relief when she finally sees him, waving a little hand in greeting.

“How the hell did you get up there?” Sinbad immediately asks, because holy shit, the kid is kind of high—higher than what she would allow someone of his size.

The boy laughs sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck and the implication of _it’s kind of a funny story_ is clear as day. Sinbad frowns.

“Well,” The boy begins, his voice still pleasantly cheery despite it all.

“My mom was late picking me up today so I decided to just walk around and when I was doing that I saw a cat stuck in this tree. I felt bad and wanted to help get it down so I climbed up and as soon as I got to the cat it…jumped down.” The boy pauses, considering himself. “I’ve been stuck ever since.”

Sinbad’s mouth gapes incredulously, her eyebrows rising up her forehead.

“How long ago was that?” She asks timidly, hoping that it hasn’t been for too long.

The boy smiles, “Two hours ago.” And as if on cue, the boy’s stomach loudly rumbles. “I’m really hungry.”

Well shit, Sinbad thinks, stranger things have happened.

As a child Sinbad spent the most of her time in trees. She pretended the trees and branches in her backyard were parts of her pirate ship as she navigated through the seven seas, battling beast after beast throughout the morning and afternoon.

Some part of Sinbad acknowledges she’s not nine or ten anymore, but it doesn’t stop her from taking off her sandals, tying her skirt at her knees, and climbing that tree. It takes her a second to get back into the swing of it, placing her hands and feet on either side of the stump and working herself up until the tree sprawls into various branches and twigs. From there on it becomes a whole lot easier and all Sinbad has to do is test the branches for sturdiness as she places her hands and feet this way and that.

“Whoa!” The boy shouts appreciably, watching the display with bright eyes. “Miss you’re really good at this!”

Sinbad huffs, breath coming a little faster. “Well of course.”

She reaches the boy in no less than two minutes, resting on the branch beside him and feeling an overwhelming sense of nostalgia as she takes in the elevated sight before thinking of how she’s going to get the boy and herself down.

“What’s your name kid?” Sinbad asks, now that she has a better look at him from up close she can see little smudges of dirt peppering his face and absentmindedly she goes to brush it off. The boy, refreshingly enough, doesn’t try to squirm away from her when she does it.

“Aladdin,” The boy beams, “How about yours Miss?”

“Sinbad.”

“How are you going to get us down auntie Sinbad?” Aladdin asks, simple curiosity coloring his voice. Sinbad’s eyebrow quirks at the _auntie_ but doesn’t question it—kids will be kids she supposes—and anyways, it’s kind of cute.

“You’re going to hop on my back and I’m going to carry you down.” The boy looks light enough, and despite what people seem to initially think Sinbad has a considerable amount of muscle on her.

She pivots her body slightly on the branch, angling her back towards the boy. “Just be careful. I don’t want you falling—or even worse—you taking the both of us down.”

Aladdin nods.

“Don’t worry.”

Effortlessly, Aladdin makes his way to Sinbad. Taking careful, light steps that hardly rattle the branch as his small hands fit over the expanse of her shoulders before wrapping his arms loosely around her neck.

“Now when I stand up wrap your legs around me so the extra weight of your legs dangling doesn’t hurl us face first.”

It’s pretty simple after that. Aladdin thank god, isn’t a type of kid that wiggles around a lot or grabs at things. Climbing down the tree only takes moments with their combined weight and when Sinbad’s feet finally touch the ground, Aladdin steadily loosens himself from her grip before hopping off her back with a light bounce.

“Thank you so much!” Aladdin says, and suddenly his arms wrap around her midsection, tight, as his head buries itself in the soft expanse of her chest. Sinbad swears she doesn’t imagine the ecstatic sigh that leaves Aladdin’s lips when he buries himself further into her bosom.

Sinbad can’t help but laugh and ruffle the boy’s feather soft hair as he pulls back, happy flush high on his cheeks.

“No problem…just don’t go chasing anymore cats up any trees anymore—what kind of kid even does that?” Sinbad says more to herself than anything, and then she remembers how Aladdin mentioned his mother was late in picking him up. Dread fills Sinbad, imagining Aladdin’s mother close to hysterics by now since her son has been missing for the past two hours, maybe even more.

She almost groans.

“Hey Aladdin, do you want me to call your mom for you—tell her you’re alright? Or at least walk you back to the school and stay with you until she picks you up?” Sinbad doesn’t like the idea of a sweet boy like Aladdin walking back by himself, especially when the sun is close to going down and god knows the creeps that would love the opportunity.

Aladdin smiles but the movement looks contrived, as if he’s used to and embarrassed by this sort of thing—that it’s happened more than once.

His feet shuffle restlessly under the leaves.

“You can if you want…I mean, I really don’t want to be a bother.”

Sinbad waves her hand in the air, flippant.

“Don’t be stupid kid, you’re not a bother. I have nothing better to do with my time anyways and besides you’re a pretty cool kid—you know, despite getting bait-and-switched by a cat.” Sinbad grins, teasingly nudging Aladdin on his shoulder and Aladdin grins right back and it makes Sinbad feel somewhat better.

“Well let’s go.” Sinbad gathers up her sandals, feeling both parts too lazy and too tired to put them back on. “I don’t want your mom to already be there and think I tried to kidnap her son, I don’t think I could smooth talk myself out of that one.”

Aladdin laughs, but the sound is quite and subdued and it makes Sinbad pause—the melancholy and listlessness she find there, startling for such a bright kid.

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry.”

Sinbad doesn’t ask why.

…

Aladdin goes to Washington Elementary School—a school only a couple of blocks away from the park Sinbad found him in so the walk isn’t terribly far. On the way there, Aladdin uses Sinbad’s phone and calls his mom, but it’s clear after the third try she’s not picking up. Aladdin sighs, leaving a quick message as if he knows it isn’t worth his time.

If Aladdin is worried or upset he sure doesn’t show it, if anything Sinbad feels more worried _for_ _him_ than anything else.

Sinbad shoots Yamuraiha a quick text.

_might be home late. dont wait up._

She gets a teasing reply back about two minutes later—Yamu telling her to have fun and to be safe and Sinbad doesn’t send a response back to clarify. The situation seems a little too sensitive—a little too personal to casually reveal.

“I’m really sorry about this.” Aladdin says, his small fingers fidget and ring together as his eyes burn holes into the ground below. “You probably have to bunch of things to do and you’re here with me—you can go, I’m sure she’ll show up soon, so you don’t have to—”

Sinbad sighs. How many times does she have to tell the kid?

“Aladdin, I told you its fine. I’m staying with you.”

He sniffs, nodding his head even though Sinbad knows he wants to debate further.

“And I’m not staying this so I can bail out on you, but do you have anyone else that you can call if your mom doesn’t show up. Your dad by any chance?”

Aladdin shakes his head.

“I don’t—my dad uh, he’s not really an option.”

Sinbad frowns, not even willing to go into what that actually means until something that looks like recognition flickers in Aladdin’s bright blue eyes.

“Um, but I do have someone! She lives in the same apartment complex I do and she’s really sweet—gives me lifesavers each time I see her.”

Sinbad hands Aladdin her phone, giving him what she hopes is an encouraging smile. “Try it out.”

Sinbad is in a state when Aladdin calls the woman who lives in the same complex as him. She hears the words but doesn’t really process them, preoccupied, deep within the cloud of her own mind.

She’s tired, alarmingly so for it being so early, but climbing that tree as well as the added on stress of making sure Aladdin makes it home safely is a factor as well. Aladdin laughs and smiles a lot when he’s on the phone with her Sinbad vaguely notices, so she feels at ease with that.

The call is over in less than a moment and Sinbad suddenly snaps back to the present when her phone is handed right back to her.

Sinbad eyebrow arches. “That was quick.”

Aladdin nods. “She’s coming to get me. She said I can stay at her place until my mom comes back—left a note at the door. You can go—she’ll be here any minute.”

Sinbad laughs, “My god kid, you just don’t get it. I’ll wait here until she comes and gets you—make sure I’m dropping you off in good hands.”

Ten minutes pass like clockwork as Sinbad and Aladdin spend the remaining time by playing rounds of ‘would you rather’? Sinbad is tame in her questions, but Aladdin is quick and witty in his, making Sinbad pause and seriously consider if she would rather be forgotten or hatefully remembered. Before she can even answer the question, headlights pull into the school parking lot.

“That must be her!”

Sinbad stands, brushing off her skirt as best she can despite the grass stains and dirt. It’s going to be a pain to clean Sinbad thinks absentmindedly.

Aladdin hops up, smiling and nodding. “Yep, that’s definitely Ja’far’s car!”

Sinbad almost misses it.

 _Ja’far_.

“Who?” Sinbad sputters, her eyes feel like they’re ready to pop out of the sockets as Sinbad is suddenly all too aware about how her eyeliner is probably already smudged beyond recognition or how her face feels like a huge grease pit and Sinbad wants to _die_.

Sinbad clears her throat, loudly, tucking her hair behind her ears in a nervous gesture as Aladdin runs over to Ja’far’s car and Sinbad has no choice but to reluctantly follow.

The headlights and the car stay running as a tiny figure steps out of the drivers seat and meets them half way and goddamn it if it isn’t Ja’far.

Her hair is pushed back with a simple black head band and she’s wearing _shorts—_ actual shorts—and Sinbad has to remind herself not to gape openly, because Ja’far has the nicest pair of legs she’s ever seen.

Milky white and slender curves—and Sinbad imagines how they would feel wrapped around her waist—or even better her head as she’d grope and grab at the expanse of skin while Ja’far would ride her face like someone would a Shetland pony.

Ja’far doesn’t blanch when she sees Sinbad so she guesses that’s a good thing. It’s a curious thing what she actually does—in all honesty everything Ja’far does is fascinating and curious in a way—and how she looks at Sinbad, slightly taken back and awed by this whole encounter, just as much as she is, is reassuring.

Sinbad dips her head cordially in greeting, smiling faintly when their eyes meet.

“Hey.” Sinbad says almost shyly—which is…surprising.

“I feel like we keep running into each other.” She wants to cringe at how… _amateur_ it sounds, almost does, but then Ja’far is smiling and fidgeting slightly with the fraying hem of her shorts and it’s cute.

She nods, swallowing once.

“Yeah, I mean—yeah,” Ja’far looks up at Sinbad through her lashes (which is _completely unfair_ by the way) and her gray eyes roam over her face graciously before modestly shifting them back down.

“I’m sorry I would have come sooner, but I was on the other side of town and—” Sinbad has noticed Ja’far has a habit of gesturing wildly with her hands whenever she can’t express herself fully, it’s one of her endearing quirks Sinbad finds charming.

It must show on her face because in the next instant Ja’far is flushing, her cheeks reddening as she directs her attention towards Aladdin who’s watching the exchange with an introspective gleam that’s somewhat unsettling for a kid his age.

“Hey Aladdin,” Ja’far greets softly, ruffling the boy’s hair. “You’ve had a long day haven’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Aladdin nods as he looks between Ja’far and Sinbad. “You two know each other?”

Ja’far hums. “Yeah, we go to the same school.”

“You two go to school—aren’t you a little old?” Aladdin asks with curiosity that’s startlingly genuine and Sinbad snorts at that, lifting her nose slightly.

“No such thing.”

They make small talk for a few moments before it becomes clear that chatting in an abandoned school parking lot with a kid not connected to either of them is a cause for any kind suspicion.

Aladdin hugs Sinbad one last time before making a break for the car, calling shot gun all the while and Ja’far yells after him.

“Make sure to put on your seat belt, or you can _forget_ about sitting in the front!” Sinbad smirks at how domestic it all is.

“What?” Ja’far questions as she tilts her head back towards Sinbad, timid smile flickering over her face and it’s so fucking fetching. Sinbad wants to scream.

Sinbad shakes her head, though it doesn’t help the smirk from growing into something resembling a cheshire grin and she bites at the corner of her lip, uselessly trying to restrain it.

Sinbad distractingly scratches at her cheek, running her fingers down her jaw as she shrugs. “Nothing, you’d make a good housewife. That’s all.”

Ja’far rolls her eyes, breathing out an aspirated sigh that sounds more parts amused than annoyed.

“Oh, shut up…” The conversation inevitably drifts off. Sinbad and Ja’far looking everywhere else except each other as the birds, along with the crickets fill in the silence with their respective chirps.

Sinbad can almost imagine it as a date—it would be around this time that she’d lean in, brush her lips only a whisper away, living for that brief moment where breathe intermingles and everything surrounding goes blurry before the warm press of soft lips.

“Hey,” Ja’far speaks up. “Where do you live? Let me drop you off—you have to be exhausted.”

Sinbad’s heart, she swears, palpitates right in the cavity of her chest. She swallows a couple of times, throat suddenly as dry as sand paper.

“Ah, it’s fine. I live really close by so it’s no problem, just get the kid something to eat—I think he’s about to die.” Sinbad laughs, her eyes move to Aladdin who’s watching them with a semi impatient expression all kids wear when they are soundlessly done with the day.

Ja’far pouts, hand coming up to rest saucily on her hip.

“Come on, it’s the least I can do. Just get in the—”

“Let me take you out.” Sinbad says it before she can rationalize and determine whether or not it’s going to make her look like an idiot. Which, things usually do when she hasn’t thought them through long enough. Sharrkan and Masrur would be proud of her though, for how blunt and straight forward she’s being when faced with an anomaly like Ja’far.

It feels good though. To say it—get it out in the open.

Ja’far blinks, then blanches before turning bright red.

“W-what?” She says weakly, sounding frazzled beyond her wits.

Sinbad laughs, hopes the sound displays the confidence she feels steadily falling out of her butt.

“Let me take you out. Drink and dinner this Saturday, it’s the _least_ you could do.” Sinbad teasingly throws back, even gives a wink for good measure.

Ja’far’s hands do interesting little dances. “I—why would you—”

Sinbad’s mouth twists. Maybe being forward had been the wrong way to go.

“Hey, if you don’t want to that’s cool too—”

Ja’far’s eyes widen so suddenly it’s almost comical. She shakes her head franticly back and forth and all Sinbad can think about is how fucking cute her hair looks in that head band and—Jesus, when did it get this bad?  

“ _No_ —no, I—I want to.”

The earnestness in her answer almost breaks Sinbad.

…

When Sinbad gets home Sharrkan’s there with Yamuraiha on their couch, her feet are perched in his lap and his fingers softly brush the curve of her calf delicately.

It’s obviously a private, intimate moment and when Sinbad walks through the door they both look as if they got caught doing something they shouldn’t have been doing and Sinbad can’t really be surprised—she had always suspected something.

Sinbad’s somberly quiet when she steps through the archway, head purposely down as her hair curtains down her face, hiding the broad smile from her friend’s view as she tries her hardest not to start madly giggling.

“Sinbad?” Yamuraiha says timidly and she can hear the concerned shift of her body on the couch.

“Hey, Sinbad something happen? You okay?” There’s a rough edge to Sharrkan’s voice that warms her heart despite the false misguidance. She’s such a horrible friend.

Sinbad nods grimly, pausing momentarily for dramatic effect before breaking out into a run and launching herself on two of her best friends, shaking with laughter, feeling light with how giddy and happy she feels.

Nothing beats it.

“Sinbad!”

“What the fuck!”

She just laughs harder. “Holy fucking shit—I have a date with Ja’far!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never give up on old stories because the author might just update.

Her room is trashed. Sharrkan dubs it a war zone for shits and giggles and Sinbad almost hits him for it.

Shirts, pants, and skirts are scattered this way and that—on her chair, on her bed, on the floor and Sinbad can’t really be bothered to give a shit about the cumulating mass of clothes that’s going to be awaiting her when she gets home. Not when she’s so close to pulling out her own hair and _eating_ it.

Part of her would say that she’s nervous about her date with Ja’far—but the other part says, what’s dinner and a drink compared to all the times Sinbad didn’t even bother with those simple formalities, let alone first names?

You would think going up to a complete stranger and asking her whether she wanted to go back to her place or yours would be more nerve wracking than anything else, but Sinbad can’t even manage to stop biting at her nails at the prospect of fucking up the littlest thing with Ja’far tonight.

“Sinbad, calm down—Jesus, you’re making _me_ nervous.”

Masrur, Sharrkan, and Yamuraiha all watch mirthfully from the door way. Occasionally, Sinbad will throw something halfheartedly in their direction to get them to shut up and leave her alone. Sadly, it never works.

“This looks too bold doesn’t it?” Sinbad absentmindedly asks, tilting her head questioningly.

She runs her hands slowly down her waist, smoothing the material down so it lays flat and doesn’t give her body any weird angles or curves as she twists and turns in front of the full length mirror.

It’s a strapless, red dress that hugs her body like a second skin, displaying her natural curves gracefully in ways that makes Masrur modestly shift his gaze somewhere over her shoulder when she turns to inspect her backside. Sharrkan whistles, which earns a deathly glare from Yamuraiha and he immediately apologizes, scratching at the back of his neck.

Sinbad sighs, cupping her boobs and lifting them dubiously, frowning at the swell.

“I wanna be sexy, but not _too_ sexy, you know?” Sinbad whines, peeling out of the skin tight dress, not caring about being seen in her bra and underwear in front of her friends as she collapses heavily on top her bed with a frustrated huff.

“I think you’re thinking about this too much Sinbad.” Yamuraiha says softly and both Masrur and Sharrkan grunt and nod their heads in agreement.

Sinbad rolls face first into her bed, muffling a groan into her pillow as her legs flail angrily in the air. She probably looks like a child but she doesn’t care.

“I don’t know what to wear!”

Sinbad can hear one of them come into her room and shuffle about, picking up various articles of clothing and disposing of them seconds later and Sinbad just lays there, too lazily and too discouraged to look up and see what’s going on.

“Sinbad get up, try this on.”

Sinbad looks up half-heartedly at Sharrkan who holds a frilly lace dress she’s never seen before. She shoots up instantly, rising on her hands and knees and she gapes at the thing for a second, astonished.

“Where the hell did you get _that_ from?” Sinbad demands as she snags the dress with greedy hands and beings putting it on with earnest.

Sharrkan blanches, bright green eyes widening with bewilderment. “I found it on your _floor_.”

Sinbad shrugs easily, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t underestimate how many clothes I’ve bought and never actually worn.”

“That’s not a good thing Sinbad.” Yamuraiha helpfully adds from her spot under the archway, taking leisure sip of her tea.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sinbad mumbles as she gets the dress in place, adjusting her bra and straps accordingly.

It’s black; a color that works for any occasion as the bodice is silky and soft, rubbing against her skin pleasant and cool. The neckline drops off at a tantalizing angle just shy of teasing, while the skirt fans out in an aesthetically pleasing fall of black lace embroidery, making the natural hourglass of her figure stand out strikingly. With the right heels, Sinbad thinks triumphantly, her legs would give off the appearance of going on for _miles_.

This just might work, Sinbad thinks as she twirls in the mirror, humming to herself content.

…

A brief conversation Friday afternoon (if you could even call passing each other in the hallway, both in a hurry to get to their respective classes a conversation) decided the location of where they would go on Saturday night.

It’s a restaurant located right smack dap in the middle of town, right on the lake—a small and cozy place with atmospheric dim lighting and the usual go-to for first dates.

Sinbad still blushes at the fact that _it is_ a date—that Ja’far had actually _agreed_ to it and Sinbad can’t help but to smile stupidly at that simple fact as she drives into the parking lot of Ja’far’s apartment complex, parking as close as she can to Building B, Apartment 14.

She breathes out slowly when she reluctantly turns the engine off, ringing her hands together a couple of times before she notices the nervous gesture for what it is and immediately puts her hands under her thighs to stop their constant fidgeting.

Sinbad’s never been this nervous before about going out with somebody. The feeling is foreign, an odd sensation that makes the palms of her hands damp and her legs an odd sort of tingly.

Sinbad takes her time as she walks up the steps, smoothing her dress and making sure to the best of her ability that everything is perfectly in place.

The click of her heels echo in her ears as she nears Ja’far’s apartment and when she knocks she inwardly cringes at how loud it sounds—instantly wanting to apologize and run away at the same time.

There’s shuffling behind the door and Sinbad does her best to stand cool and collected, trying to school her face into something that gives off an air of levelheadedness—not that she feels it.

The dead bolt unlocks, along with an unclasping of a chain and much more suddenly than what her brain can comprehend, Ja’far is _there_ like some heartthrob teen fantasy—and she—

“Oh my god,” Ja’far stammers, eyes widening in her skull and Sinbad notes with a hint of pride that Ja’far gaze goes instantly to her legs.

Sinbad chuckles, biting at the corner of her lip as she gives Ja’far a good once over as well. Her eyes not shy in the slightest.

Ja’far looks entirely too handsome, decked out in lose fitting dark wash jeans that fall low on her hips that make Sinbad only _slightly_ envious at how comfortable they look and how comfortable they’d possibly feel. Her shirt is a mix of green and blue plaid, worn over a perfect fitting dark blue blazer that brings out the natural lightness of her eyes and hair and Sinbad has never seen someone so strikingly charming in her life.  

Coyly, she tucks away a stray piece of hair that escaped out of her bun behind her ear. Sinbad smiles, putting a newly manicured hand on her hip.

“I hope that’s good?” She says teasingly, tilting her head.

Ja’far looks confused for moment before it clicks, cheeks taking on a subtle flush.

“Yeah—oh my god—I just—I feel so underdressed now.” She looks up at Sinbad, her eyes glowing. “You look absolutely gorgeous by the way.”

Sinbad can’t help how she blushes at that, nervous laughter fluttering out between her lips before she can stop it because when Ja’far says it, it doesn’t sound like some corny pick up line to get her into bed. It’s startling genuine and Sinbad doesn’t quite know what to do with that.

“No, _you_ look great actually—stunning if I do say so myself.” She pokes Ja’far teasingly in the side, which eases some of the nervous tension in the smaller girl’s shoulders.

“Where were you hiding _that_ Ja’far, huh?” Sinbad asks, gesturing at the outfit with a grin.

Ja’far blinks down at herself, gripping the lapels of her blazer.

“This thing?” She asks with a dry laugh, tugging at the corner of her collar. “This is nothing. I mean it’s obviously _something_ but—ah, I’m just going to stop talking before I embarrass myself.” Ja’far bites her lip and looks up at Sinbad shyly through the fringe of her bangs.

“I swear I’m usually not like this—I can usually use my words a _whole_ lot better.”

Sinbad’s brows rise, highly surprised by the admission and she feels the beginnings of a smirk lift the corners of her mouth—slow and _very_ deliberate as she licks her bottom lip. She can’t help what comes out of her mouth next.

“So it’s just me then—that gets you all… _bothered_.”

Ja’far makes a noise at that, cheeks tinting a pretty pink as her eyes instantly shift to the side and Sinbad practically inflates with new found confidence because _damn_ —

_I just want to shove you back in there and kiss you all over, you’re so cute._

Ja’far scratches at the back of her neck, shifting slightly as her eyes drift somewhere towards Sinbad’s feet.

“Don’t say it like that…”

“Hey, I’m just teasing you.” Sinbad reassures, smiling sweetly and she grabs Ja’far’s hand, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles soothingly before bringing it up to her lips, giving her hand a light kiss which Ja’far blanches and sputters over.

Sinbad gestures her head back to her car. “C’mon let’s go.”

Ja’far just blinks, nodding.

…

As Sinbad originally thought, the restaurant unsurprisingly proves to be one of the hot spots for a Saturday night.

They circle around the small parking lot a few times and Sinbad is both parts surprised and amused at how Ja’far both scoffs and curses under her breath at the few stragglers who can’t decide between either getting _out_ of their car or getting _into_ it.

How Ja’far’s nose scrunches up makes her freckles all too noticeable Sinbad thinks, and it’s adorable—and unexpected—this little temper Ja’far has.

Ja’far stills when she notices Sinbad watching with an amused gleam out of the corner of her eye and mutters an apology.

“I just—that’s one of my _biggest_ pet peeves.” She clarifies, hands gesturing agitatedly. “It’s just like, get in or _get out_ —I’m wasting my time thinking about whether or not you’re going to leave or not…” She gives Sinbad a look, pouting slightly. “Sorry.”    

“No, no it’s fine.” Sinbad says, vigorously shaking her head, laughing softly.

“I’m just surprised—you always seemed so quiet and…I don’t know, soft?” Sinbad says for a lack of a better word. She knows Ja’far isn’t _soft_ , known from the moment she spotted her in English and wondered what her deal was.

Ja’far just laughs.

“Hmm,” Ja’far hums, her expression amused— _thoughtful_.

“Soft huh? That’s a new one.”

…

Sinbad thanks god—or whoever—that she took the time to make reservations earlier in the week. The waiting area is completely packed with people that look both parts aspirated and grumpy and Sinbad gives them a sympathetic looks as she passes by, choosing to ignore the all too interested looks she gets from certain guys that give her deliberate and slow once overs.

She steps closer to Ja’far, intentionally getting into her space to discourage any futile ideas and besides, Ja’far next to her is really nice. She’s warm and smells like mint and a touch of amber and the shy smile Ja’far gives her when Sinbad wraps her arm around her’s makes her heart flutter in her chest.

It only takes five minutes for them to be seated and Sinbad’s nerves from the start of this whole thing have settled down considerably.

Ja’far makes her feel comfortable and at ease in a way that she’s never really felt before when going out with someone—it’s not hard to be herself or joke around and the borderline flirty banter shared between them makes Sinbad giddy in how it gets her blood going.

Ja’far’s tongue is sharp like a whip, completely unforgiving and it’s in these moments when they are verbally going back and forth with each other that Sinbad’s eyes lid and she licks her lips because it strangely feels like a form of foreplay.

Her clever retort dies on the tip of her tongue as she just instead focuses all her attention unabashed on Ja’far, not caring in the slightest if she’s being embarrassingly obvious about it.

The lighting makes Ja’far’s eyes look like burnished gold and Sinbad knows if she wanted too she could get lost in those eyes.

“What?” Ja’far asks, brow arching as she takes a sip of her drink. The girl loves margaritas.

Sinbad slowly shakes her head, her fingers brushing over her lips in a quick, barely there movement.

“Nothing.”

Ja’far tilts her head, corner of her mouth rising.

“Somehow I don’t believe that…” It’s spoken lowly and Ja’far’s eyes watch her intensely, tracing her cheek, the plump curve of her bottom lip where Sinbad’s fingers had brushed…

Sinbad feels heat immediately flood her, settling somewhere to smolder in her belly.

Sinbad smirks, doing the motion again with her fingers except she lingers, thumb tracing over the swell.

“That’s good, because you shouldn’t…”

Ja’far opens her mouth and pauses, lids low and inviting and before she can get anything out their waitress is there, loud and exciting with their food and it breaks the quiet and semi-isolated atmosphere that had been charged with crackling intensity.

Sinbad sighs, communicating with her eyes for Ja’far to save that thought—whatever it was—because she most _definitely_ wants to hear it.


End file.
